The Way to a Man's Heart
by jennyfair
Summary: At a celebratory dinner, Christine sees another side of her usually-reserved tutor. Modern AU, E/C.


_Written for Inktober 2019 #25 prompt "Tasty", originally posted to Tumblr._

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Christine was glad she managed to save room for dessert when the server brought the raspberry mille-feuille. It was almost too lovely to eat, a perfect ending to the most lavish meal she'd had in, well, probably ever. Growing up on the road had meant a steady diet of cheap take-out and whatever greasy fare came from the kitchens of the venues her dad played. Even now, out of music school and with a decent job at the opera, she wouldn't splurge on something like this for herself.

Taking the first bite, she nearly moaned in appreciation but was afraid of drawing too much attention to their dimly-lit corner of the restaurant. Her dining companion was a private person, to say the least.

Erik sipped at his wine and only watched from across the table as she devoured an entire feast, meant to congratulate her on being cast as Siébel in the upcoming season's production of Faust. He insisted she should be Marguerite and that the mistake would soon be rectified, but she brushed off his comments as excessive pride in his teaching abilities. Siébel was cause enough for celebration to her.

Course after course, he politely declined each time she offered him a taste. Her tutor never ate in front of her, and Christine wondered for the millionth time exactly what lay beneath the mask that covered everything except his mouth and chin. At first, she hadn't even noticed it; the likeness was so realistic. There was no explanation offered and she was too polite to ask, assuming it had been some kind of accident. Was he burned? Missing part of his cheek, or jaw, or nose? She flushed and looked away when she realized she was staring at his false face.

Her interest was more than mere curiosity. Over the past months of their lessons, he had seen her true self through the shell she'd worn since her father's death, and Christine wished she could do the same for him. Whatever was behind that thin layer of custom-molded silicone, it would still be the face of the man who had reawoken something in her that she had believed to be lost forever.

She glanced back after a pause, trying not to seem obvious, but soon realized Erik wouldn't have noticed her gawking in any case. His attention was trained on her mouth as she took another generous bite, those pale brown eyes turned wolfish gold as they reflected the flickering candle at the center of the table. He'd never looked at her this way before, like a man at a woman and not an artist assessing his work.

The change was not unwelcome. Christine had felt drawn to Erik from the start - an attachment that ran deeper than the music, as if there were an invisible thread connecting them. But he hadn't given any sign it was mutual, so she'd resolved to keep things professional. Maybe the old adage was true and food _was_ the way to a man's heart, even a man who looked like he scarcely ate at all.

No longer caring if anyone else might hear, she closed her eyes and let out a soft sound of pleasure. She heard a faint _hiss_ as he sucked in a breath through his teeth. When she reopened her eyes, that familiar mantle of propriety had settled over him again, but the predatory glint in his gaze remained.

Daring a bit more, she dipped a finger into the pastry cream filling and brought it to her mouth. Erik's hands twitched where they rested on the table and he shifted anxiously in his seat. He was normally so controlled, almost cold. Tonight, she saw his demeanor through a new light.

The stiffness and well-practiced formality, his hesitation to touch her - perhaps it was a different sort of mask. Just because she had never counted them didn't mean there weren't strikes against him, after all. There was the difference in their ages, his unseen face, the mystery of a past he had yet to share with her...

"Are you enjoying everything?" Erik asked, interrupting her thoughts.

His voice was raspy, lacking its usual finesse. Christine tested her new theory and licked her fingertip clean before answering.

"Oh, yes. Everything."

The corners of his mouth disappeared beneath the edge of the mask in a rare smile. Encouraged by his responses, she pushed further.

"I really wish you would try this! It's so tasty."

"No, thank you. I…"

Erik trailed off as she picked out a cream-covered raspberry and raised it towards him. He tensed, the predator now the prey. Christine willed her hand not to shake as it kept moving forward until she was a few inches from his face. She gasped when his hand shot up to seize her wrist, holding her at a slight distance.

While his eyes were wary, Christine tried to keep her expression neutral. Tried not to reveal that this was a test she had devised on the fly to determine which path to take at this unexpected fork in the road. After what seemed like forever, he relaxed his grip and dipped his head.

Erik took her offering between his teeth, carefully avoiding her skin. Disappointed not to feel the swipe of his tongue as he drew the berry into his mouth, she ran her thumb along his lips under the guise of brushing away a bit of cream. He leaned into the contact for a moment before pulling back suddenly. Releasing her wrist, he lifted his napkin to conceal his mouth as he chewed.

"Did you like it?" she asked, heartbeat thrumming with each second that ticked by as she waited for his response.

"Yes," he said at last, lowering the napkin and avoiding her eyes. "Very much."

They were not speaking about the mille-feuille anymore, that much was certain. Cheeks warm and mind buzzing, she finished her dessert while Erik drained his glass. They sat in awkward silence for a little while longer until he remarked that it was getting late and signaled the server for the check. Christine wasn't eager to return to the real world outside the restaurant doors.

When he offered to call her a cab, she asked him to accompany her the couple blocks to the subway instead, claiming he'd been generous enough already. As they walked side by side, hands tucked safely away in their respective coat pockets, she wondered what the consequences of this evening would be. Would they go back to their roles of student and teacher as if nothing had happened? Or was this the beginning of something new?

When they reached the subway entrance, she decided that worry and consequences could wait until the morning.

"Thank you, Erik. Good night."

Grasping his lapels for support, she stood on tiptoe to press a lingering kiss to the cheek of his mask. He shivered as she leaned in closer, her lips grazing his ear.

"And sweet dreams."

Christine left him standing speechless, gloved fingers held to his cheek, as she darted down the stairs to catch the approaching train.


End file.
